


All the King's Horses

by Caro (thestarsexist)



Category: Firefly
Genre: Community: picfor1000, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-28
Updated: 2005-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsexist/pseuds/Caro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's an old game from Earth-that-was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the King's Horses

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 's "A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words: 3rd Times the Charm" challenge. [Stef](http://scrunchy.livejournal.com) said liked it, but I know for a fact that she was hopped up on drugs at the time. I have no clue what [Fox](http://fox1013.livejournal.com) or [Bethy](http://hwmitzy.livejournal.com)'s excuses are.

The gray box is covered with dust. You trace your name on it. You hold your dirty finger up to your brother. He doesn't get upset when you rub it on his perfectly white shirt.

"What is it?" Kaylee asks.

"Treasure?" Jayne pipes up, and your brother gives him that _look_ and it's good because it's not at you. Not that your brother ever really gives you that _look_. His looks at you are always tinged with things like sadness and guilt, and they run down his face like cobwebs.

"Not exactly," Simon says, opening the box, and you know what it is. "Might as well have been though, considering it cost me a fortune." He unfolds the board onto the dining table. You recognize the little carved pieces. "It's an old game from Earth-that-was. River and I loved it."

He looks at you. You brush the cobwebs off his face.

"You remember, River?" he asks.

"No," you lie. You shake your head and you climb on the table, and sit down. Your brother looks wistfully at you before he collects himself and starts assembling the pieces on the board.

"You spend the last of your take from the hospital job on it? Must be some game." Mal comments.

"It's called Chess," Simon explains. "River and I used to have marathons— we were both very good."

"I was better," you say. Simon smiles.

"Yes, you were."

"Looks like luh-suh to me," Jayne mutters.

"How do you play?" Zoe asks. She examines a piece, looking for its secrets, but it doesn't talk. Wash takes the piece.

"Ooh Horsie. I call the horsie."

"You *can't* call the horse," Simon says.

"I call the pointy-headed guy," Jayne says.

"No, no, there's no calling. It's not— you can only pick what color you want to play. There's two sides. And you play against each other. It's a strategy game."

"It's a war," you tell them.

Simon nods. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it. There's two Kings," he holds up the piece for their perusal, "and they both start out at opposite sides of the board. And if your King falls, you lose."

"Kings are always falling," you tell them. "It's the inbreeding."

"And each piece is part of your army. They all have specific moves, and you have use it to defeat your opponent. This one here is the Rook, and the horse, that's the Knight, and the pointy-headed piece is the Bishop."

"I've always found men of the cloth to be rather pointy-headed," Mal says.

"Present company excluded, I'm sure," Book says, and they all laugh. You frown because they are laughing and not seeing what is laid out in front of them.

"There's a lot of little pieces," Kaylee remarks. "What do they do?"

"They die," you say. "It's the fate of the small ones. To be sent to the slaughter."

Kaylee frowns. "Oh, that's sad."

Your brother watches you warily. "The pawns are the opening attack. They start the game. They aren't valuable."

"Had families once. Who loved them. Who sacrificed for them. But they got sent away; it was for the greater good, but no one knew how much it hurt and how they would hurt." You pull at a loose string on your sock and watch it unravel into a little hole. Someone never stopped tugging and they tore little holes in your brain.

"River..."

"You think you're being clever. But your enemy knows your moves. They know them before you make them. Someone is going to fall."

"No one is going to fall, mei-mei."

"There'll be blood." It washes over the board and stains the pieces.

"Hey, that was mine," Jayne shouts, reaches out of you, but you turn invisible so he can't find you. "Do you know how much I had to shell out for real _gorram_ juice?"

"Leave her alone," Mal says, and his voice is pointy and Jayne stomps off.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," Simon says. There are blood stains all over his white shirt, and they cover everything. You want to cry.

"It's okay, Simon." Kaylee wipes the table with a towel. "River just got excited, is all."

"I thought it would be nice," he says quietly. "I just wanted her to remember some of the good."

You reach out to him but you're still invisible and he can't see you anyway.

I do remember the good, you think. You remember everything. The remembering never stops in your head until you have to close your eyes and try to squish it all out, but even then you can see the pictures, can see them all dead, and your brother is covered in blood.

"Sometimes River just remembers in special ways," Wash says, pats Simon on the back and follows Zoe out of the room.

"Interestin' game." Mal says. "Now, I'm sure I've got some Captaining to do, so if you'll excuse me."

"Me too," Kaylee says, and everyone leaves, and you are alone with your brother, so you turn back to visible.

You walk over and pick up a knight from the floor.

"I'm sorry," you say.

"It's okay, River," he says, cupping your face with his hand. "It'll be okay. No one will ever hurt you again. I won't let them."

You want to believe him.

"I want to believe you."

"Well, then, believe me. I'm your brother. Have I ever lied to you?"

"No. But...but they know all our moves, Simon. They will come."

"We'll get new moves," he says. "Fancy ones. Ones they'll never think up."

He wraps his arms around you. "I'll take care of you, little one," he whispers against your hair.

You close your eyes and squish out all the pictures, until all you can see is him.

You pick up the pieces together, resetting the board, starting a new game.

"Want to play?" he asks.

You smile.

"I call horsie," you say.

Your brother laughs. It reminds you of the good.

*end*


End file.
